


Anthesis

by blackraspberryjam



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Arranged Marriage, Dwalin Is A Softie, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Gender Dysphoria, Sort Of Cinderella, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-01 03:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12147438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackraspberryjam/pseuds/blackraspberryjam
Summary: Bilbo Baggins might be a prince but sometimes he wishes he was anything but. His interests don't align with what people think they should and he is not a fan of the balls his mother throws.When his best friend suggests attending a festival, Bilbo is intrigued. It becomes even more of marvel when they decide he should go in the guise of being Bianca Button.Things change when he meets a tall, dark stranger at the festival and Bianca becomes more than a disguise to him.





	1. Chapter 1

There was never really an official decree that a royal family member of the Shire needs to be married at their coming-of-age. It was more of a tradition than anything, but most had followed it. From King Gerontius and Queen Consort Adamanta to their twelve children, each of them had married during or shortly after their coming-of-age. Many of their grandchildren were happily wed as well and the royal family had no trouble with producing additional heirs. Many were happily anticipating the next royal wedding, which would be Prince Bilbo, 13th in line to the throne, after his mother’s siblings and their children.

The slight problem with that, while he was just shy of his thirty-third birthday, he had yet to be seen in any relationship at all. Not with anyone he had met at various social functions, or simply in town, or even from any of the matches his parents had tried to select for him at royal balls. While it was still not exactly required, it was still a little troubling to his family. They had all had happy, wonderful marriages, but Bilbo did not seem inclined to seek out one for himself. Of course, they had to lend a helping hand.

His grandfather took to throwing more balls and parties than he usually did, and most tried to explain it away with him becoming eccentric in his old age, but it did not fool Bilbo. He knew fully well what was expected of him, and he frankly disliked it. Marriage was not something he was interested in, and he particularly hated being dressed up in suits and paraded about parties to any eligible young woman. He could never think of himself as a groom, wearing a tight suit and standing at the altar for a blushing bride. Suits made him very uncomfortable. Far too stuffy for him. He usually could get away with a nice waistcoat, which he more preferred.

He might not have minded if the topic didn’t start sneaking itself into nearly every day. His mother would ask pointed questions about what he thought of Rosemary Cotton, who he had spoken to for hardly three minutes at the last ball, mostly because she kept ‘accidentally’ falling into his arms. She had also taken to having increased amounts of tea parties with her friends, all of whom seemed to bring a different young female relation or another every time they showed up. Bilbo would be on his way to the library and then he’d find himself being dragged to meet Lady Rumble’s niece, she came all the way from Hardbottle, don’t you know? His father was a little less insistent than his mother, but Bilbo would find his father trying to intrude on his private studies to assure him that they could talk, ‘just us men’. Bilbo hated when he spoke that way.

Honestly, if Bilbo was able to do whatever he wished, it would not be what he was supposed to be doing. He was supposed to be training his swordsmanship, his archery, and his gentleman status, but he much preferred other activities. He enjoyed simply being in the library, if not reading or drafting a novel. He had several that he had written, but had not shown anyone. He enjoyed working with the gardener when he could, and felt proud when his roses bloomed beautifully or when that tough group of orchids turned out successfully bred to be a beautiful color. Sometimes he snuck into the kitchens as well. He liked cooking, but he was particularly talented at baking.

None of this was really considered suitable for a prince, or not expected at least, but his parents had let him do as he wished, as long as he did the things he was supposed to be doing as well. So he learned how to ride a horse and the proper greetings for various nations’ visiting dignitaries and how to waltz. Now though, they were fully expecting him to set his hobbies aside to be a proper prince. He wasn’t a child who could have fancies, he was to be a grown man. Bilbo wanted to know why grown people could not also do the things they liked. It was utterly frustrating for him.

“I simply can’t stand being a show pony to be paraded around the ballroom,” Bilbo grumbled as he pulled weeds with Hamfast Gamgee, the head gardener, who Bilbo supposed was his best friend. It was easy enough to find something in common when you both had your hands in the dirt and you were clearing the bramble bushes from the loganberries or when you’re coaxing the garden ivy to climb the wall and to not choke your roses.

“Well, those balls of yours don’t seem to be very fun at all,” Hamfast said, taking hold of woodsorrel that had managed to pop up in the peonies. “They look pretty and all, but you never seem to talk to people and actually talk to them.” He said, throwing the offending plant into the slowly increasingly-sized pile behind them. He wiped her tanned brow with the back of his dirt-covered hand.

“What do you mean?” Bilbo asked, sitting upright.

“Well, you all say ‘how do you do’s and ‘how is it going’s but you never seem to really listen to the answers, I suppose,” Hamfast said, thinking for a moment. “Everything is business, it seems. Talking to someone usually means you’re thinking about an alliance or a business proposal, not that you really want to know how their wife and kids are doing. Just seems a little dishonest I suppose.”

“Well, not every ball is like that.” Bilbo attempted to defend, but he knew that a lot of talk really was exactly as Hamfast said. Bilbo himself really did enjoy talking to people just to talk, but he also knew that not everyone did.

“Certainly not the kinds I go to.” Hamfast laughed. “You lot have your grand soirees, but us regular folk have our season festivals. At the beginning of every season, we all get the chance to doll up and have a grand party!” Hamfast took out another clump of wood sorrel with his fist.

“What exactly do you do at these parties?”

“Well, it depends on what time of year it is,” Hamfast said plainly. “We have one for each season. The Spring Festival is where we celebrate the first signs of spring.  We decorate with the early blooming flowers like crocus, and we light candles to guide us into spring or ‘bring back the sun’, or at least that’s what my mother used to tell me it was for. Some of the girls will even wear wreaths of new green growth and lit candles.”

“Lit candles?” Bilbo asked. “What about the wax? Doesn’t it drip?”

“The candles are long and tall, so they take some time to drip that far. Most don’t leave it lit all night anyways.” Hamfast assured him. “Once it starts to get dark, we elect the most beautiful girl to be our May Queen and have her light the huge bonfire and dance all night. People will announce courtships and wedding intentions and carry messages with their flowers and with which dances they have with who. But of course, some of the young ones don’t just do dancing but rather spend the night in the forest with special someones.” Hamfast said with a chuckle. Bilbo felt his face get a little flustered and focused on pulling out roots.

“We use fire for the Summer Festival as well. We have another big bonfire and light torches to ward off negativity. Some even build smaller fires and jump over them. It used to be to invoke fertility, but now it’s more of a childhood game. We keep candles lit the entire day and we celebrate the first harvests. There’s a lot of traditional food made with the first harvested crops, such as loaves of bread and fruit dishes.”

“But the best food comes with the Fall Festival when the harvest is underway. We have large feasts that last the whole night and make all sorts of candies and sweet things that the children gorge themselves on.” Hamfast made a sheepish face and Bilbo could make a stab and guess that Hamfast had done so himself. “There’s games and fun, but it’s also said that it’s the time that the dead are closest to us, so many people dress up to confuse evil spirits. Many leave out food or drink for their ancestors too. We all do a lot of dancing and the like, but it’s also a time to be respectful to your elders.”

“The last one would be our Winter Festival.” Hamfast continued. “We do it at the same time as Yule, so most people spend most the day at home, celebrating with their family, gifts and good food and whatnot. But when the sun goes down, we all meet together and hold a large dance. We share gifts with friends and decorate with evergreen boughs and candles.”

“That all sounds wonderful,” Bilbo said, with a soft smile directed to the dirt. Most balls were all very similar. Some made the effort of having a theme, such as costumes or aligning themselves with Yule or another holiday, but the Festivals sounded so cheery and light.

“It is rather nice.” Hamfast agreed. “Do you wish to join me?”

“At the Festival?” Bilbo asked, startled.

“Well, yes,” Hamfast said, shaking his head. “The Spring Festival is approaching, now that the snow has mostly melted, the sun has been out more than not, and the weeds have been growing as much as the flowers.” Hamfast pulled at another bunch of little yellow wood sorrel flowers. “Unless these little buggers are deceiving me.”

“How could I go the Festival?” Bilbo said. “I doubt I would be allowed.”

“Then don’t ask,” Hamfast said easily. “Just go and don’t tell your parents.”

“What if someone recognized me?” Bilbo asked. “I’d hardly have fun when someone might tell my parents.” He wasn’t concerned with not informing them, for he did a bit of that regardless. In fact, they didn’t know he was out in the gardens instead of studying or doing some such thing in his own chambers.

“A disguise would probably work best.” Hamfast agreed. His tanned skin furrowed between his brows. “I’m not sure how we’ll do it though. We’d have to do something big.”

“What could we…?” Bilbo started but stopped when he realized that the figure coming towards them from across the lawn was indeed Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, a relative who took it upon herself to be a parrot of his family’s on about what a prince was supposed to act like, despite not being royal herself. Bilbo apologized to Hamfast quickly and made his escape before his cousin by marriage could get close enough to lecture.

Bilbo was able to make it out of the garden relatively unscathed and after scrubbing himself down and dressing in cleaner clothing, he managed to act moderately civil for the rest of the day. He ate dinner with his parents, who thankfully did not bring up the topic of marriage for the night, and he did some studying like he was supposed to.

Later that evening, he had a visitor in his chambers. Hamfast came in to speak with him and Bilbo made sure they had ample privacy before they spoke. You never knew who was pressing their ears against the lock, and it was no good to scheme when a chambermaid was dusting in earshot. Hamfast smiled at him and Bilbo asked for him to spill whatever plan he had probably cooked up.

“Now, I was thinking about how to disguise you,” Hamfast said and Bilbo rolled his hazel green eyes.

“I could deduce that,” Bilbo said but Hamfast gracefully ignored him.

“Now, what would you say about wearing a dress?” Hamfast asked. That surprised Bilbo and he couldn’t say much of anything. That had not been something that Bilbo had even remotely thought about.

“My sister gave me the idea,” Hamfast admitted. “Usually she’s rather dirty and tomboyish, but when she dresses up for a festival and puts on a dress and makeup, she looks like an entirely different person.”

Bilbo was fully aware of Daisy’s more tomboyish nature. She worked in the kitchens and was often the one to sneak Bilbo in for some baking. Bilbo had known her since she was a scullery maid and now she was one of the chefs. Daisy had been mad at Bilbo for a week, accusing him of throwing his royal weight around to get her a promotion. 

“A dress?” Bilbo asked plainly. He wasn’t opposed to it really, he simply never really thought about himself in one. His mother wore some rather beautiful gowns and he could admit that the fabric had always seemed nice, but he had never worn one himself or thought about wearing one. “How would we get one?” Bilbo asked.

“Well, we could probably borrow one of Daisy’s dresses,” Hamfast said. “She probably has some kohl and rouge and things too, or at least she should since the Festival is nearing.”

“I don’t know if any of her dresses might fit,” Bilbo said, looking down at himself. He wasn’t particularly plump or thin, stouter than anything. He didn’t have a particularly cinched waist or dainty wrists or any such thing. He certainly had no breasts to speak of. “I’m not quite shaped like a female.”

“Could I bring her around tomorrow?” Hamfast asked. “She might be a bigger help than myself.”

Of course, eventually Bilbo agreed, and after a full day of entertaining the visiting dignitaries from Rohan with his family and avoiding their princess on principle, Bilbo found himself in his chambers with a shorter version of Hamfast looking him down. Daisy had a very similar face to her brother, both dark brown in skin tone and long in nose, but her hair was much longer and her cheeks more rounded and rosy. Looking between them, Bilbo wondered if the difference between the siblings would be like the difference between himself and his disguise.

“I doubt any dress of mine might fit you,” Daisy said with a frown, but Bilbo expected it. Bilbo was several inches taller than she and he was broader and did not have as small a waist. “But I think I know someone who might make you one,” Daisy said.

She spent some time collecting his measurements and then applied various makeup to his face to get an idea of what would work with his face structure. Daisy helped him wash off the makeup when she was done, but she refused to let him look. Bilbo felt a little disappointed, for he was a little excited to see what he looked like with eyes rimmed in kohl and cheeks and lips reddened with rouge, but he knew she was only experimenting. Daisy insisted that he could look when she had it down right.

Bilbo sent the siblings home with a bag of coin to pay for a dress to be made, and with a little extra for Daisy for being such a big help. Hamfast would be working in the garden still, but the both of them would be back in a week to prepare him for the Spring Festival.

The week was full of various activities, prince-like and non, and Bilbo could hardly remember what he did or said. He was rather focused on the festival and the plan that was underway. He was curious as to what the dress would look like and was rather excited when he let Hamfast and Daisy into his room on the afternoon of the festival.

The dress was beautiful when Bilbo looked at it. It was white with soft green lace sewn onto it. It had a straight neckline and a low dipping waist. The skirt was soft and almost ethereal in how it faded to almost transparency. Small blue flax flowers and white camellia were woven together as a wreath-like sash and there was an accompanying flower crown with it.

“This is...lovely,” Bilbo said, a little confused on how to feel. Daisy thankfully said nothing and helped Bilbo slip the dress on. The dress had a corset back, to be pulled with green ribbon. Daisy said it would help for a more feminine figure, but she didn’t lace it particularly tight. She claimed no one would ever be able to dance with a fully cinched corset anyways, and Bilbo was thankful for it.

She also assisted in instructing Bilbo on how to wear women’s stockings, which were considerably longer than men’s. She helped him into a pair of soft green slippers, which were far nicer than the hardened leather boots he wore to formal functions. Daisy tutted over Bilbo’s tawny hair, which was a bit too short to do much with. It could be explained away as a short woman's cut, but it was still rather short for that. Daisy brushed it away from Bilbo’s face and pinned it with little hairpins tipped with white flowers.

Daisy applied kohl around Bilbo’s eyes and brushed soft pink powder over his cheeks and on his lips. She applied darker color under his cheekbones, to make his face more feminine and applied some dark color to his eyelashes. It was only after she set the flower crown on his head and sprayed some perfume that smelled of lilies on him that she allowed him to go to his mirror and look.

He hardly recognized what he knew to be himself. Instead of a young man in a stuffy coat, he saw a young lady in dancing attire. Her eyes were brighter and looked far more green, her hair more golden and her lips were tilted upwards and full. She carried herself differently too, more demure and softer.

Bilbo didn’t know why, but he felt tears prickle at the corner of his eyes and a feeling of contentedness settle in his chest. “Are you alright?” Hamfast asked, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I really like this plan of yours,” Bilbo said, smiling at his friend. Hamfast just smiled in return.

“Are you ready to go?” Daisy asked. Bilbo nodded. As they went through the gates of a castle, all traces of a prince melted away and out emerged a princess.


	2. Chapter 2

 

The city was alight with tall, spindly candles and there were wreaths of new green growth covering every flower pot and windowsill. The women were wearing short skirts for dancing and the men wore button-up shirts and pants with rolled cuffs. All wore flower crowns of some type and many were barefoot. Everyone was smiling, if not laughing, or dancing, or drinking, or feasting, or being merry in any way they chose.

Bilbo felt almost a little self-conscious under the makeup and the ribbon that was holding his corset in place. Here, he was to be Bianca Button, a distant relation of Daisy and Hamfast’s who came to town for the festival. She was light and charming, or at least that’s what he decided she would be. She would be cordial and smart, but fleeting enough to not need to delve too deep.

Bianca watched as young women passed, one or two wearing the tall candles wreaths. There were side tables set up with small treats laid aside and Daisy leads Bianca to them easily. There is an assortment of small shortbread cookies, chocolate caramel rose tarts, pansy covered tea cakes and lavender teas. Daisy helped herself to a few, tucked some into her pockets for later. Her dress was a beautiful rosy color and far simpler than Bianca’s, but Daisy insisted it was superior for its pockets.

“When you’re able to sneak a few tea cakes out, it’s far more fun.” She told him, sweeping her dark curls over her shoulder. Bianca agreed. While the balls she attended were well catered, the food here seemed a bit different. It was more simple and tasted fresh and vibrant, instead of elegant shapes and subtle tastes.

“Are you going to dance?” Hamfast asked, touching a friendly hand to Bianca’s shoulder. “The musicians are starting up their instruments.”

“I don’t think I could at the moment,” Bianca replied. Her voice was soft, hushed even. Almost breathless. “But I believe you have your own admirer.” Behind Hamfast was a young woman trying to make herself less obtuse by hiding behind a stack of barrels, but her moon eyes gave her away.

“That’s Bell Goodchild,” Daisy said. She bumped her hip lightly against Bianca’s as Hamfast trailed his way over to the short blonde woman. “She’s been after Ham for years now. Stupid brother of mine can’t get it through his head that she’s actually interested in him.”

“Do you have anyone interested in you?” Bianca asked coyly. Daisy only laughed.

“They’re a dime a dozen when you’re as beautiful as me,” Daisy said. “But I haven’t found one that fits the mold.” Bianca nodded. She was going to tease with a comment about high standards but decided better of it. It could easily be due to faults of the suitors as well.

“I’m going to hop over to the bonfire for a moment. Are you alright here?” Daisy asked and Bianca nodded shyly. She wasn’t really sure if she was ready to be alone, but she wouldn’t keep Daisy up.

As soon as the dark-skinned woman left, Bilbo moved further to the edges of the long tables. They were piled with all sorts of foods and goodies, and it was relatively quiet. It was a bit away from the crowd and no one stayed for much longer than to fill up a new plate and to chat a bit with a neighbor.

Bianca chatted with several different people and was able to stick with her story easily enough. She made a few friends, she supposed, but eventually would be alone again when they had others to go see.

Bianca still found that the very energy of the party was delightful. Such movement and happiness and light chatterings that rolled over the green grassy hills. There was still light in the sky and it was only the sunny afternoon, but the bonfire was built up with large branches and logs, ready to be lit.

Bianca found herself so deep in her musings that she hardly paid attention to where she was meandering. That is until she accidentally stepped onto a pair of boots.

“Oh goodness, I’m sorry.” Bianca apologized, realizing that she had just tumbled into someone. “I wasn’t paying any mind to where I was going.”

“It’s alright.” A gruff, deep voice said, which prompted Bianca to look up and actually look. Her victim was quite a bit taller than her. He also didn’t appear to be from The Shire at all. If Bianca had to chance a guess, she would say he was from the North or the East. He was tall, with tattoos dusting over his arms and knuckles. There was a ring of tattoos over the part of his head that was shorn, but his hair elsewhere was long and his beard trailed down onto his chest. He wore furs that looked rather heavy and layers of thick, sturdy clothing. It looked dreadfully warm.

“No, it’s all my fault.” Bianca insisted. “Can I get you something? For the trouble? Maybe some lemonade?”

“Lemonade?” The man asked. A large eyebrow arched, but that was the only change in his facial expression.

“Have you not had it before?” Bianca asked. The silence told her all she wanted to know. “I’ll go get you some. Wait here, please.” She asked. She scurried off to find two cups of lemonade. She had to wrestle with herself on whether or not to also get some lavender lemonade but decided that the original would be best. By the time she got back to her poor foot-trod victim, she also had a napkin full of treats clutched in her hand.

“I picked up a few of the sugar cookies,” Bianca said, pushing a cup of lemonade into the man’s hand. “And some of the other things as well.” She said a little shyly. He looked into the liquid of the cup and swirled it ever so slightly. He eventually took a drink, almost taking all of it in a gulp.

“And?” Bianca asked excitedly.

“It’s good.” He admitted and Bianca felt a small victory.

“I’m glad.” Bianca smiled, taking a sip of her own. Then, she finally remembered her manners. “Oh goodness. I’m so sorry. My name is Bi-Bianca. Bianca Button.” 

“Dwalin Fundinson.” He replied in kind. His mouth was slightly quirked up at the corner.

“Oh! You’re from the East then?” Bianca asked. The naming scheme was somewhat familiar to her.

“Indeed.” He said. There was no room to add anything further, really, from there, so Bianca sat for a moment thinking of what to say.

“You know, I haven’t been to many parties like this.” Bianca shared. “Have you? I don’t know if you’ve been around for very long.”

“Not especially,” He told her. “I’ve come with some family for a time.”

“Well, you might as well enjoy the festival tonight then,” Bianca smiled. She felt a little self-conscious about herself but it was a little exhilarating to be with a stranger.

“I suppose,” Dwalin said shortly. That seemed to be all he would say. Bianca was content to watch the crowd dance by in silence. That is until she heard a familiar tune start up. It was one of the only fast-paced songs that they ever played in the palace and it had become one of Bianca’s favorites.

“Oh, you will dance, won’t you?” Bianca asked.

“I’m not one for dancing,” He said and Bianca pouted a bit.

“If you’re sure,” She said, slipping away into the dancing crowd. It was quite fun actually. There was a lot of spinning and fancy footwork, but it wasn’t a particularly organized dance out here. Instead, everyone moved as it felt natural. After a particular turn, Bianca noticed Dwalin again.

Having a guest sit to the side just simply wouldn’t do, she decided. So she finally just grabbed his hands and brought him into the fold herself. If he really didn’t wish to dance, she doubted she would have been able to budge him.

After a few turns, she noticed he was not standing still anymore. There were some taps with his boots and then a rhythmic swaying. He seemed fond of turning Bianca around, but she liked the twirling as well. 

As the end of the song drew closer and the beat became faster, she found herself becoming more adventurous. Dwalin would turn her and push and pull her a bit more, a bit wilder and she would let herself follow his lead. In the last sweeping movement of the fiddle, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her gracefully.

Bianca almost felt like the was flying, but with a pair of firm hands grounding her. It had been a surprise and not, for it seemed to fit in perfectly with the dance. Dwalin set her down with a sheepish look as the final chord ended.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” He apologized.

“You hardly did,” Bianca assured him. “Care to join in the next song?” She asked as the fiddler struck up another tune.

As it would turn out, she had a rather devoted dancing partner the whole night. Each dance was more intricate and fit together more perfectly than the last and now that Dwalin had no qualms about lifting her, she was tossed into the air several times. Eventually, the fast songs cooled away to some slower ones more suited for a waltz.

The first waltz that came along, Bianca and Dwalin had retreated to the sides to get a drink and to catch their breaths. Then they plunged back into the fray when the music hit the next upwards tilt.

At the second waltz, Bianca clasped Dwalin’s hands and began to move in the steps. It was slightly strange, for Bianca had always led, and that was always how she danced it. She found she didn’t mind following Dwalin or the way his hand was placed on the small of her back. Of course, she fumbled a bit at first.

“I haven’t waltzed in some time,” She fibbed. She had danced it only a few weeks ago, but again, while being in the lead role.

“I do not mind,” Dwalin said, leading her further.

At times while moving about the dancing area, she was certain she caught glimpses of Hamfast dancing with Bell and occasionally Daisy with a red-haired man she wasn’t familiar with. The dancing was eventually interrupted just as the sun had set. There was a great doing where a young girl was elected as the May Queen. She was certainly very pretty, which is why she had been elected. She used a torch to light the largest bonfire and the cheers were louder than ever.

During the night, Bianca heard several couples announcing their engagements but she was mostly concerned with the dancing. Once she was tired out, she and Dwalin ended up settling by a tree, close enough to a bonfire to have some warmth but not close enough to get overheated.

“Maybe we overdid it a little,” Bianca laughed, leaning against the tree. Her feet were fairly achy now and her slippers were fairly close to having holes. “I don’t regret it, however,” She said with a glance to Dwalin. He simply hummed a bit.

“What do you think of your first Spring Festival?” Bianca asked, leaning towards Dwalin. “Was it what you expected?”

“In some ways,” He relented.

“And what does that mean?”

“It was in some ways and not in others.” He said with a slight smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I expected the flowers and the dancing. I did not intend to dance myself.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Bianca asked.

“No,” He said shortly. “I suppose it isn’t.”

They were only able to talk a bit longer before Hamfast and Daisy found them.

“We best be getting back, Bianca,” Hamfast said, extending a hand to help her up. She took it and stood up, dusting her dress off a bit. Dwalin rose too, behind her.

“I suppose it is time for me to head back,” Bianca said. She turned back to Dwalin. “I don’t suppose I’ll be seeing you again?”

“Perhaps,” Dwalin said.

“Until next time then,” Bianca said with a smile.

Later, while they were walking to Hamfast’s house, Daisy gave nudged Bianca with her elbow.

“Tall dark and handsome, huh?” Daisy teased.

“It won’t come out to anything,” Bianca defended. “What about you and your lover boy?”

“Nori?” Daisy asked. “He’s a fun dancer, but I don’t know if anything will come from it.”

“Well nothing will come of Dwalin and me,” Bianca said firmly. “He knows only about Bianca.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Hamfast agreed.

They got him changed back into his male clothes and scrubbed off all the makeup before sneaking him into the palace. He fell asleep fairly quickly after getting home. When his mother asked what he had been up to the previous night, Bilbo told her that he had been studying in his room. She didn’t ask anything more and Bilbo kept the idea of Bianca to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn’t long after the Spring Festival that Bilbo was faced again with his mother’s matchmaking skills. A delegate from the East had come about and there was apparently a young princess among them that the Queen decided he simply must meet.

Bilbo found himself a bit curious since his previous dance partner had been from the East, but he found no tall, dark man in their number. It was simply the Princess Dis and her entourage, Nori and Ori. Bilbo had found it amusing that Nori was a part of her entourage, but decided to leave it be. He had found a friend in Daisy and he wasn’t going to meddle in her love life if there was anything between her and the Easterner.

Bilbo had, of course, greeted Dis warmly and welcomed her. He pretended not to notice when they were given some time to speak more privately. He didn’t mind the princess, but he could tell they didn’t have a lot in common. Dis was far more athletically inclined than he was and did not share a strong love for gardening or baking as he did.

They were able to speak of court life and general politics well enough, but neither held each other’s interests. When Queen Belladonna asked Bilbo about it later, he told her that Dis was kind enough but that was all.

Of course, that was not the end of his interactions with the princess. Whenever either had some activity planned, the other would be invited to it. Bilbo went out hunting with Princess Dis and found himself to be a far less gifted rider and sportsman than she. Often times, Bilbo would be reading in the study to find that he had a visitor awaiting him. He didn’t mind that so terribly because Dis simply read her own book or worked on something else, but it was still a bit awkward to be in such close proximity to someone else.

It was a welcome escape anytime he could get away to the gardens to simply dig his hands into the dirt. By the time the Summer Festival began to roll around, Bilbo was nearly begging Hamfast to let him be Bianca again for one night.

“I can’t handle how my mother is getting,” Bilbo said, angrily tearing out dandelions. “I never have any time alone, it always must be spent with the Princess or in some sort of princely study.”

“I might be able to arrange it again,” Hamfast told him.

Bilbo thought of all the reasons why he so desperately wanted to go. There were his mother and father and Dis, of course, but there were other aspects. In the festival, he was able to actually talk to people as they were and no one knew of his status. Out there, he was Bianca Button. Out there, she could speak to whomever. 

Bilbo thought about Dwalin again as he had many times in as many days. Sometimes he thought of the way Dwalin laughed heartily during a dance and sometimes he thought of the way he stood stoically with a strong look on his face. Sometimes Bilbo thought of the blue of his eyes and other times he wondered about the tattoos encircling his crown. He had some scars crossing his skin, most notably one that came down and cut through his eyebrow, and it often came up in Bilbo’s mind as to what they were from.

The Easterners tended to be a bit more rough and tactical, so Bilbo supposed it could be anything from a bar fight to a battle. It was intriguing to think of. Of course, Bilbo wasn’t able to ask any questions anymore, so he chose to savor what he did know. Dwalin liked lemonade, once he had tried it, but he liked the cookies better. He was a fantastic dancer and incredibly strong. Bilbo could tell that Dwalin hardly exerted any energy when he lifted Bianca around.

He also had a softer side, which Bilbo noticed anytime a child was around. Dwalin’s face would always ease up a bit and Bilbo had caught him making a face or just smiling when he saw a child running about during the festival. It was a shame that Dwalin had only been visiting, for Bilbo found he rather liked him, even with the little time they had together.

A few days before the Summer Festival, Daisy was able to sneak into his room again to help him out. It was a welcome relief, especially after spending another day out riding, where he was sorely bested by the princess. Bilbo was beginning to think that she didn’t especially like spending so much time with him either.

“You’ve been growing out your hair,” Daisy said appreciatively, combing it out with her hand. It had gotten a bit closer to chin length, as Bilbo had always had fast-growing hair.  Bilbo hadn’t thought about it particularly, but he had liked the look and weight of it. “It gives me more to work with.”

She retook his measurements to make sure that his increased amount of teas taken with Dis didn’t affect his waistline and tried a different style of the makeup on his face. She worked with some different colors and such. Of course, Daisy made him wash it off at the end, before getting a peek at it. Bilbo sent her off again with some money for the outfit.

The next few days, he was a little dazed to the world as he imagined being Bianca again. He remembered the confidence and how he loved the way the skirt of a dress fell about him. When Hamfast and Daisy came the night of the Summer Festival, he had long been awaiting them. The Summer Festival was even more reliant on fire, so it started when the sun set, which had been so long for Bilbo to wait.

With the application of kohl and some rouge, he was already beginning to feel like Bianca. The dress this time was far longer. It was a creamy white that reached the floor and had sleeves that came off the shoulder. There was a gauzy layer overlaid over both the tiered skirt and the long sleeves that had an etching of lace. It felt wonderful and light on the skin. 

Daisy’s was similar, but with the lace layer reaching higher over the sides of her throat and the solid dress underneath stopping at a straight neckline. Bianca twirled in her skirt slightly, wondering about how they would feel while dancing. How would they feel if she was lifted high in the air or if she was tossed? Would they flutter about?

Bianca stole away in the night with Hamfast and Daisy. When she arrived at the Summer Festival she already felt so much lighter. She was very much ready to be Bianca for another fleeting night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer dresses:  
> Bianca https://i.pinimg.com/564x/4d/58/b0/4d58b0f48798b3da6b347c04dda8d985.jpg  
> Daisy https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ef/15/8b/ef158bd3c14a0fcd74ce05d4294b7bb5.jpg


	4. Chapter 4

The Summer Festival was as beautiful as the Spring Festival, if not only for the lights. As the nighttime sky hung above them with gleaming stars, the ground was littered with bonfires blazing just as bright. There were groups dancing about bonfires and others who built small ones and jumped over them in feats of bravado and in what Hamfast told Bianca used to be a fertility ritual.

Other than the bonfires, there were also many, many candles everywhere. Many had their own lanterns to keep them in and some were beautifully crafted with colored glass. The tables were no longer lined with flowers, but rather the fruits of the first harvests and hearty bread and cheeses.

Unsurprisingly, Daisy found Nori again, who Bianca was well aware was still around. Bianca pushed her to go to him, both for Daisy’s happiness and for Bianca’s slight fear of being recognized by Nori. Bianca was able to walk around and chat with Hamfast for some time, enjoying the heat and excitement of the day, until he saw Bell. Or rather, Bell saw him and dragged him off.

Bianca didn’t mind, for it gave her some time to look around on her own. There were a few people there that she had talked to at the last festival who welcomed her back and it was nice to be able to talk to people who were unaware of her true status. It was even nicer to be recognized as Bianca. 

She considered joining in one of the rings of dancing, but she was nervous about being so close to any fires with a dress. Bianca felt confident in it, but she was still not quite used to the ways it twirled out and didn’t want to risk setting herself aflame. 

Instead, Bianca watched a few couples join hands and jump over a smaller fire. Most seemed very happy about it, and Bianca suspected them majority were newlyweds. It was a bit of commotion when one happy young man accidentally stepped on the edge of a stick and sent it out of the ring into the grass. A quick hand quickly tossed it back into the fire before it caught the grass or a poor lady’s dress on fire.

Bianca realized that she recognized those knuckle tattoos, and upon looking upwards, she was delighted to realize it was indeed Dwalin who had thrown the stick back into the fire.

“Isn’t that hot?” She asked, moseying up to him.

“Not especially,” Dwalin said. “I’ve got thick skin. Hardly burns.” He said, holding out a thick paw. Without thinking about it, Bianca grasped his hand and felt the hard callouses. Certainly a worker’s hand. Bianca also marveled a bit at the difference in their skin tones, even when only lit in the firelight. Her own skin was fairly pale and lily-like, a fault from being confined indoors, but Dwalin’s skin was dark and deeply tanned.

Realising she was invading his space, she quickly dropped his hand.

“I’m sorry.” She said quickly.

“It’s no trouble,” Dwalin told her, shifting on his feet. “Are you going to try it?” He asked, gesturing at the fire, where another happy couple was gearing up to make a quick hop over.

“Well, you need a partner for that sort of thing,” Bianca laughed to herself. And a womb too, she supposed.

“Would you like to?” He asked her. Bianca whipped around to look at him.

“You do know why they’re doing this, right?” Bianca asked, blushing a bit. She hoped it wasn’t noticeable in the darkness. “It’s a fertility ritual.”

“Makes sense as to why you would need a partner,” Dwalin huffed. “Don’t know what a flame has to do with children,” Bianca laughed with him, a little relieved.

“I’m not sure either,” Bianca said quickly. “I wouldn’t want to burn up my dress by falling in either,” She noticed Dwalin glancing down to her dress, which made her a little self-conscious. Was he able to notice the lack of curves? Were Bianca’s shoulders a touch too broad, her voice a touch too low?

“It’s a fine dress,” Dwalin said sagely.

“I would hope so,” Bianca smiled.

“The green one was nice too,” Dwalin defended. “Made your eyes look brighter.”

Bianca was surprised for a moment. He remembered the color of her dress from the Spring Festival? He noticed the color of her eyes?

“Oh goodness,” She said, averting her eyes and feeling her face flush. “I didn’t realize you remembered all of that,”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Dwalin said quickly and Bianca felt her hand grasped lightly by the somewhat familiar callouses. 

“I’m not. Embarrassed, that is.” Bianca said quickly. “It’s very sweet of you.” Bianca saw him prickle a bit at that, his turn to be sheepish. Bianca glanced at the crowds around the fires for a moment and then gently lead him by the hand to a more secluded spot by the treeline.

“I thought about you as well, you know,” Bianca said, biting her lip. “I’m surprised you remembered me.”

“I hardly talked to anyone but you last time,” Dwalin told her. “No one else tried to. Or tripped into me.”

“I already apologized,” Bianca said with a smile.

“Indeed,” Dwalin said. “And yet you stayed around regardless.”

“You weren’t enjoying the festival,” Bianca said sheepishly. “I thought you might like to dance,” Dwalin hummed a bit in response. Bianca glanced back to the festival. There were several tables of delicious looking food being set out and she debated about running over to pick up a pastry or two.

Wordlessly, Dwalin strode past her and to the table. He turned back to her and gestured to various dishes and using some hand signals, Bianca communicated to him what to grab, giggling the whole time. He returned with slices of peach cake, small strawberry tarts, and lemon cake.

“You could have told me you were going,” Bianca said, still laughing as she took a lemon cake slice from him. “I would have come to help you carry them back. And you wouldn’t have had to decipher my hand waving.”

“You went to get the lemonade last time,” Dwalin said simply, leaning against one of the trees. Bianca bit into her lemon cake gratefully, savoring the sweet yet sour taste on her tongue. 

“I like the peaches,” She said, once she got to the peach cake.

“Is that what they are?” Dwalin asked. “They do not grow in Erebor.”

“Truely?” Bianca asked. “Then you must try one,” She told him, spearing a piece of the cake and holding it out to him on her fork. He simply chose to open his mouth and let her place it on his tongue. He nodded as he chewed and with her fork still in the air, Bianca realized how close she was leaning towards him.

“It is good,” Dwalin agreed. His blue eyes flickered back to Bianca’s and she felt a little embarrassed of her forwardness, but Dwalin only smiled and took a forkful of her cake. Bianca let out a little eep and defended it from him, but he only laughed at her feeble attempts.

“I couldn’t just give up my peach cake that easily.” Bianca said, “You have your own!”

“You offered your's to me already,” Dwalin countered. “Do you wish to trade it?”

A little confused, Bianca lowered her arms and the cake a touch. Dwalin had his own peach cake, but not anything else especially to trade. She was surprised when he inclined his head and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. She was a little more surprised when he used her shock to snag another bite of her cake.

“That was unfair!” Bianca accused. “A first kiss should hardly be over cake.” She said.

“You are angry for the kiss rather than the cake?” Dwalin said with a lopsided grin. Bianca gasped angrily, becoming a little more flustered, which seemed to amuse him even more.

Moving the plates to the ground, Dwalin straightened and put his large hands on either side of her face. Bianca assessed the confidence in his eyes before he leaned in and kissed her again. Her eyes slid shut and she hummed in approval. Much improved, she thought, finding her hands wrapping around his strong midsection.

“Why that was much better,” Bianca teased a little breathlessly when they parted. Dwalin chuckled before touching his forehead to hers. Bianca giggled a little bit as well, savoring the intimacy of the moment. She could feel his thick arms wove around her waist and the puffs of his breath against her face.

They spent much of the rest of the festival like teenagers, speaking in hushed tones and with intermittent kisses. As the bonfires died down and true teenagers hiked off into the forest for some alone time, Bianca wondered what it would be like if she could go off with Dwalin like that. If she could love him the way a woman could. As Dwalin’s arm was rested around her waist, Bianca reminded herself of the truth that she was withholding from him.

There was a curl of guilt in her stomach and she felt like scum. He was a wonderful man but she was not a wonderful woman. Bianca felt unhappy in her lot in life, to be born with extra bits between your legs and with a firm chest rather than a soft one. There were many times that Bianca had thought that it was better to be Bianca than to be Bilbo.

In this moment, she was truly Bianca and she was only Bianca with Dwalin. She forgot Bilbo for a moment and leaned into Dwalin again. Of course, as the bonfires were put out, Bianca was coaxed away by Daisy and Hamfast. She needed to be in the palace by morning. Before she left, she pressed a soft kiss to Dwalin’s lips and said goodbye. They didn’t speak of the next festival.

As Bianca peeled off the dress, Bilbo wondered if there could ever be a world where there was only a Bianca. He looked in the mirror and thought about how much he wished the curves of a woman would appear. He fell asleep for the few hours he could manage while thinking about the way he felt as Bianca.


	5. Chapter 5

Fall was the season of change, and there were certain things changing in the palace and things that weren’t. Bilbo’s curls had long grown past his shoulders and it was often caught in a tie. When he brushed his hair, he pretended sometimes that he was getting ready for another festival. Another change was that there were to be several more balls this season, not that there hadn’t already been a steady uptick, for Bilbo’s birthday was at the end of the season.

To help celebrate it was Princess Dis and her entourage. They had stayed longer than any other party that had visited, and while they were by no means great friends, Bilbo did not mind spending time with the princess. Another thing that did not change was his mother’s attitude towards marriage. Although, it had shifted some.

“A spring wedding is the nicest.” She mentioned to him at one point when he was attempting to escape. “Your father and I were wed just after the snow melted.”

Bilbo was thankful that there had been fewer talks about weddings as his coming of age approached, but he knew it was not done with. His mother had been meeting with King Thorin more often, with him being Dis’s elder brother, which had brought some of the attention off Bilbo.

Soon enough, it was his coming of age and there was a grand ball for it. Bilbo reminded himself of just how much he hated his maleness as he dressed for it, wishing it was Bianca’s coming of age. The white coat reminded him of her summer dress but it was heavy and coarse and cut for his unhappily male figure.

Regardless of his feeling, he was still able to court the feelings of the various nobles that had come to the celebration. There were several family members who had come, namely the King Gerontius and King Thorin. Bilbo had not been lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the visiting king, as much as his mother cloistered his time and sent Bilbo out with Dis.

There was some dancing, of course, and plenty of food, but Bilbo found the dancing to be far less enjoyable when he was leading and the food tasted like ash on his tongue. As the time melted away, the King stood up in the front to make an announcement. Bilbo came to stand by his side, as it was, of course, his coming of age.

His grandfather was a fine speaker and wove many praises of his grandson into his speech and Bilbo felt mildly proud and a bit unhappy as he noticed the pride was not placed on his baking or gardening but rather his studies and dancing.

“Of course, this being my dear grandson’s coming of age, there is a Shire tradition we would like to invoke.”

Bilbo watched in horror as Princess Dis came up to the podium with what could only be her brother King Thorin beside her. Even worse, beside him was a familiar face. Dwalin’s eyes met Bilbo’s. Bilbo thought he was going to be sick when the recognition flashed in those blue eyes. Dis moved to the side of Bilbo regardless and Dwalin stood next to his king.

“We would like to announce the joining of two great kingdoms. After many months spent together in good company, Bilbo’s mother, King Thorin and I would like to announce the upcoming marriage of Prince Bilbo Andwise Everard Fredergard Seredic Baggins and Princess Dis Durin, daughter of Thrain II.”

Bilbo’s blood ran cold. The cheers and clapping were deafening in his ears as he glanced from Dis’s face, which was firm but not happy, to Dwalin’s who was even more unreadable. King Thorin said a few words after King Gerontius but Bilbo could not hear them and as everyone left the stage, Bilbo found his feet moving to chase after Dwalin, despite the well-wishers coming to greet him.

Dwalin was faster than Bilbo, but he was able to get close to him in the gardens.

“Dwalin, please!” Bilbo said, his stomach feeling like he had swallowed done of those garden stones. Dwalin turned around, his face steely and angry.

“Yes, your highness?” He said coldly and Bilbo recoiled.

“Don’t do this, please,” Bilbo begged.

“Do not do what? Lie? Pretend to be someone I am not?”

“I’m not this either!” Bilbo said, the tears flowing freely down his face.

“You’re a prince, Bianca!” Dwalin said. “Bilbo.” He correctly quickly and Bilbo felt his heart chip away a little more.

“I don’t want to be Bilbo.” He admitted aloud. “I never wanted to lie to you - I swear it!”

“You did lie to me,” Dwalin told him. Bilbo flinched from the intensity of his blue eyes.

“I lied, yes!” Bilbo cried, throwing his arms out in anger and frustration. “I lied about being royalty but stop calling me Bilbo! I never lied about being Bianca.” Bilbo’s chest heaved and the few tidbits he had eaten threatened to claw their way back up his throat.

“I don’t want to be a man! I loved being Bianca and I loved you!” Bilbo cried. “I wanted happiness but it shouldn’t have been at the cost of yours. I want to be a woman and I want to be able to love you.”

“You’re marrying Dis.” Dwalin reminded him, the anger slightly abated. Bilbo bit his lip hard enough that it nearly bled.

“I didn’t know until you did,” Bilbo said, wiping furiously at his face. If this had been another time, there might have been kohl coming off of his face but his gloves were only wet with tears. “I never wanted to marry her.”

Dwalin didn’t say anything. He turned around and left the garden and Bilbo found himself collapsing onto the ground with heavy hiccuping cries. He couldn’t bear to look up and see Dwalin walking away from him. As he left, Bilbo felt every trace of hope of being Bianca being torn with him. There was no Dwalin, there was no Bianca. There was only a coming-of-age ball inside and a spring wedding to be planned.

Eventually, Bilbo made his way back inside after checking that his eyes were dry enough to not cause a fuss. He accepted the congratulations from well-wishers who had no clue of what happened in the garden or of who Bianca was. Bilbo simply smiled and said thank you. He refused to dance until he was paired with Dis for the last dance of the night. His fiancee, he thought bleakly. They danced well enough but Dis was hesitant to look in his eyes as well.

“I did not know of this either.” She told him quietly.

“It has already been decided,” Bilbo affirmed.

They ended the dance with a curt nod to each other and Bilbo was thankful to be able to go to his rooms. He locked all the doors and shut the curtains. He dug into the back of his wardrobe for where he had hidden the summer dress and wore it in front of the mirror. There was no beautiful young girl to look back at him. It was a sad, red-eyed prince who wore a dress made of past dreams and current regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The partial truth comes out! Also, surprise that Dwalin as indeed a part of the Erebor group, if you hadn't already guessed.
> 
> Let me know what your thoughts are!


	6. Chapter 6

Bilbo did not go to the Fall Festival, which was only a few days after his birthday. He also declined attending the Winter Festival and instead went to the Yule Ball his mother had thrown. There was some tension between him and his mother and Bilbo had decided on simply not speaking more than a few words at a time to her.

Regardless, the wedding planning continued. Occasionally, Bilbo would be asked to help pick out colors for napkins or flowers. It became routine for him to avoid the fittings for a suit that he hated and he refused to cut his hair as was suggested by his father. There was a sharper eye on him now and his visits to the gardens or the kitchens had been cut to none. Bilbo sorely missed Daisy and Hamfast, but they also reminded him of what he had lost.

He had heard that Hamfast had become engaged to Bell through the grapevine and he was both happy for his friend and envious. Another solace was found one day as Bilbo was studying in the library. He had taken to going to his room as of late but had needed a certain book. Princess Dis had come in and sat next to him. Bilbo was startled when she leaned onto his shoulder.

“I’m sorry for this,” Dis said quietly. “For the wedding.”

“It was not your choice,” Bilbo told her.

“I promise to remain faithful, but I need to tell you that I had loved another,” Dis said.

“So had I,” Bilbo said quietly.

“His name is Oli Brownlock.” Dis offered. “He’s a tailor and he has an unholy love of strawberries.” Bilbo was hesitant to share but he eventually admitted.

“I loved Dwalin.” He said, expecting it when Dis sat up straight. “But he did not know who I was.”

Bilbo was not sure of how he felt when Dis simply left the library after his statement, but she did not mention the exchange again in the time they spent together.

As Spring approached, so did the wedding. There was to be one final ball before the wedding. A sort of send-off, Bilbo supposed. He had been lacing his boots up when Daisy came bursting into his room.

“No time to explain dear,” She said, shoving a giant package into his arms. “We have to get going!” The package happened to be a dress. It was a floral pattern with red and yellow roses on a white background and shockingly red lace over the bodice, trimmed with real roses.

“Daisy, this is-”

“We both know what this is,” Daisy said. “Do you want to wear this or a suit, Bianca?”

Bianca looked into Daisy’s warm eyes and nodded, biting her lip and trying to not cry.

The dress was incredibly poofy, a true ball gown. There was a choker of roses and pearls fastened around Bianca’s neck and her hair was swept back into a bun with a flower crown of red roses over her hair.

“Where did you get this?” Bianca asked as Daisy rushed to apply kohl and rouge to Bianca’s face.

“Never mind that. Just stop moving or I’ll have to start over.”

They were able to finish in a reasonable amount of time anyways, a bit after the ball had started. As they moved to the ballroom, Bianca became nervous about going in the doors but Daisy instead led her to a side door that was cracked open. For the crack, you could see the front of the room and a bit of the dancing crowd.

“You look beautiful Bianca.” Daisy assured her. “Come out when its time,” She said before going into the room. Bianca wondered what she meant and watched through the doorway. King Thorin came to the front of the room and began a speech.

“I thank you all for gathering today in celebration of a union between Erebor and the Shire.” He said and Bianca was ready to turn back to her room.

“However, it has come to my attention that there needs to be a change in plans.” King Thorin continued. There was so murmuring in the crowd and Bianca could see her parents approaching the front of the room in concern.

“I have learned that while my sister and the Prince are friends indeed, their hearts are not held by each other. Therefore, I wish to exact the marriage for my sister, Princess Dis to Oli Brownlock.”

There was definitely commotion now and eyes were drawn to the princess, who only smiled gratefully. There was a young man beside her that Bianca recognised from the Festivals who also seemed rather pleased.

King Thorin seemed to notice that Princess Belladonna was looking a little outraged, so he quickly continued.

“Of course, while this is indeed a union of the kingdoms, I would also like to exact another marriage between the thirteenth heir of the Shire and my own blood, Dwalin Fundinson.”

Bianca’s heart nearly stopped as Dwalin walked up to the front of the room in a red suit with golden epaulets that matched her own dress.

“As for the heir of the Shire, I will present to you, Princess Bianca Adamanta Esmeralda Fredericka Serafina Baggins.”

Sucking in a breath, Bianca stepped out, knowing her cue. The shocked gasps erupted through the room but Bianca kept moving. Dwalin held out his hand and Bianca took it gratefully. She looked out on the crowd. There were people she knew from birth, friends and family members, and there were townspeople that had only ever known her a Bianca.

“I would like to say a few words if I might.” Bianca said to the crowd. “I would like to apologize to everyone here for presenting myself under false pretenses. You have all known me as your prince or as a town girl. The real me is Bianca.”

There was a startled silence as people turned to their neighbors and wondered what to think. Bianca was loathe to look at her parents or her grandfather but saw no apparent anger on either of their faces.

“All hail Princess Bianca!” Cried Daisy from the back of the hall and Bianca smiled at her gratefully. Oli picked up after that and Dis was the next to join the cheer. Eventually the whole hall was welcoming her and Bianca had to hold back the tears lest she stain her face with runny kohl. Bianca turned to Dwalin, who only had a smile for her. 

“I thought you hated me,” Bianca said to him quietly.

“I could never do that.” He insisted. “I was angry. And confused. But you were right. You never told me you were a princess but you were always Bianca.”

As the cheers started to die, Princess Belladonna and her husband approached Bianca.

“I would like to give my congratulations to my daughter, Princess Bianca, on the news of her engagement.” Belladonna said loudly before hugging her daughter tightly. “If you had told me, I would never have arranged the marriage,” She whispered softly and Bianca bit her lip to not cry. 

Bungo gave Bianca a hug as well and smiled at her. Bianca looked out onto the crowd and realized that now she was well and truly Bianca.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bianca’s Ball Dress: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/0d/85/7e/0d857ebf76d98ca9dac8d6ab12ba551f.jpg  
> Dwalin’s Ball Outfit: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/e3/94/f3/e394f3911344a8d804434017bc089607.jpg


	7. Epilouge

For her wedding, Bianca didn’t really need to have Daisy sneak in to dress her, but they did it regardless. Daisy was still helping Bianca learn how to dress properly and how to do her own makeup, but it was comforting to have a familiar face do it for her.

The dress was also no secret and Bianca had happily done the many fittings it required to have it done in time for the wedding. It was a beautiful white with a full skirt, a sweetheart neckline, and a belt with jeweling. The lace overlay went over the skirt and made long sleeves and an off-shoulder neckline.

Her mother had gratefully given her the royal jewels she had worn at her own wedding, a diamond set of earrings and a crown. Bianca’s hair was caught in a low bun and her makeup was soft but made her face that much more feminine.

She was lead down the aisle by her grandfather and her father and met Dwalin at the altar. He was charming in a black and gray suit with his sword strapped to his side. To be very honest, Bianca could only remember a bit of the ceremony but she very much remembered the utter happiness she felt the entire time.

After the wedding, they moved back and forth between the Shire and Erebor. Bianca found Dis to be a far better cousin-in-law than a bride and Thorin was a kind fellow if a bit gruff. Bianca also found that she loved Erebor every bit as much as the Shire, but she far preferred the Shire Festivals, so they always were sure to travel back for them.

It was a wonderful thing to go through the Spring Festival as Princess Bianca. It was her surprise when they named her the May Queen the year after her marriage but she happily lit the bonfire before going back to her husband.

Let it never be said that Princess Bianca and her husband were not a happy pair. They were well known to be absolutely in love. Dwalin loved to shower his wife with gifts of new dresses and she loved to create wonderful poems and meals for him. They were well known in both the Shire and Erebor for their parties, which were widely considered the best.

 

After a few years, they added to their number by adopting a distantly-related orphaned cousin of Bianca’s, named Frodo. They had never expected to have children but they happily raised him as their own. Bianca liked to say that he looked more like Dwalin than herself but Dwalin liked to tease her that he was far more bookish and interested in baking than Dwalin was.

Bianca never took the throne, except when they elected her May Queen, and Dwalin never took it either, but that suited them well enough. They were happy in the niche they carved for themselves.

And they lived happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this was a double update because I didn't want to hold up the happiness. I hope everyone was satisfied with the direction the story went!
> 
> Bianca’s Wedding Dress: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/7c/0b/d5/7c0bd53aff14b51768108ead8a8be251.jpg  
> Dwalin’s Wedding Outfit: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/da/61/28/da612812bff03c38c1d1506c20b6cc94.jpg

**Author's Note:**

> Hhere is my latest fun-piece. This is mostly fairytale inspired if you couldn't tell. Let me know what you think of the story so far, I love reviews.
> 
> For Bilbo’s Spring Festival dress, this ballet costume was the base for it. There are no wings though, and no ballet shoes.   
> https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/62/53/84/625384b974c2c491bee6778a137187d1.jpg
> 
> Daisy’s, with the addition of some pockets  
> https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/75/87/c8/7587c802ba394896f72839d7e91b6ece.jpg


End file.
